


blind

by leprixx



Series: (b)east [2]
Category: Dong Bang Shin Ki
Genre: Altered Mental States, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Hallucinations, M/M, Memory Loss, Sasaengs, Threesome - M/M/M, Triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-09
Updated: 2013-03-09
Packaged: 2017-12-04 17:28:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/713232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leprixx/pseuds/leprixx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yunho doesn't try, not really. What needs to be fixed, can't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	blind

**Author's Note:**

> ( leave me bleeding on the bed, see you right back here tomorrow for the next round )

Yunho stares at the mirror and can't bother to feel anything other than exhaustion, helplessness, self-hate.

He's tired. Yoochun is on his - theirs, now- room, still more delusional than not and there were more than just a few calls that he allowed himself to miss lightening his cellphone screen from when word had gotten out that Yoochun had been attacked by a crazy fan ("I wish we could say claim fatigue, but the scar..." Manager-hyung had sighed, drained, depleted.) and to be quite honest with himself he had no idea of what he was supposed to do now, except wait (and eat, but eating entailed a whole bunch of problems that he didn't want to think about).

He grabs a towel and flings it across the bathroom - leaves it and goes to the kitchen, grabbing everything ceramic he sees on the way, digging into his skin until he's standing alone on the living room, throwing things on the floor just to watch them break, shatter, become useless.

(In some ways, he has been waiting for his whole life during his whole life.)

\--

He can't sleep. He can't and isn't sure if because of fear of what Yoochun will do when he tries, or if just because he really can't  
and  
it's driving him insane,  
shadows lining the walls when he goes too long without blinking,  
voices (familiar) whispering his hypocrisy at him,  
flashes of a life he and Changmin would have lived had things went differently when he stares too hard at his coffee

(because all he wants is to sleep, please, just sleep until one day he wakes up and none of this ever happened.)

\--

" _hello_ " the voices say, as the tv blinks off, darkness filling the room. yunho closes his eyes, breathes deep, reaches for another piece of bread and chews is thoroughly, slow, trying to will the voices away with the mechanical task  
" _yun **h** yung_" the voices say, mingling, even as he counts 2324252627282930313233343536 and swallows.

\--

"Yoochun-ah" He says, taking Yoochun's arm gently, cradling the flesh with warm hands, searching a gaze that refuses to meet his. "Yoochun-ah, I'm sorry."

Yoochun looks up, eyes blank, mouth bitten. "For?"

For not being a better leader, for not making them stay. For letting you go crazy, for not looking further. For screaming at you, scaring you, angering you, calling you useless. For everything. "I. I'm sorry."

Yoochun sighs. "Change my bandages for me?" His arm shifts in Yunho's hold and he nods, letting it go in favor of gathering new gauze, the salve, scissors, remnants of their friendship. He tries. (They try, but what needs to be fixed, can't)

\--

"I saw _them_. Saw _them_ coming" Yoochun says one day, frantic, as the sun refuses to be filtered by the blinds that were-  
wait

"Yoochun, what the fuck happened to the blinds?"

"I took them off" Yoochun flails his hands, disregarding, deeming as futile – too intent on speaking, warning. "But I saw-"

"YOU WHAT?" Yunho looks around properly, and sees the blinds scattered all over the floor, couch.

"Look, it doesn't matter, just-"

"It fucking DOES, WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH-"

"SHUT UP" Yoochun suddenly is in front of him, blood trailing from his mouth, to his chin, eyes wide and crazed "I saw _them_ coming, are _they_ here?" Yoochun’s hand grips his shoulders, and he can feel the coldness of the other’s fingers through his hoodie – it chills him down to the bone, making him shudder, take a step back, pry Yoochun’s hand forcefully from his skin when the other refuses to let go and instead comes closer, digs his freezing nails on flesh.

"Yoochun, what the fuck are you talking about?" There's something crawling up Yoochun's bare arm, something black ('dangerous' his mind supplies) - _something_ familiar. He tries to ignore it, fails, finally manages to shrug Yoochun off him. Heart beating fast, too fast.

"you have to." yoochun chokes as the dark _something_ seeps inside his mouth "leave" he coughs something liquid. "soon. before it's-"  
too late,  
and yunho realizes that yoochun had fucking coughed =black blood= before collapsing on the floor, eyes wide open and no irises, no sclera, just blackblackblack b l a c kkkkkk **k**

\--

" _yunhyung_ " they begin, as always. how long had he known them? for how long had 'known' equaled voices and not bodies? pieces and not wholes? " _we're one, yunhyung. we're two and one_ " yunho doesn't think he's ever done this before, but there's familiarity in the way that hands (hands?), hothothot hands spread his legs, heat turning his clothes to dust. proximity making him sweat, touch making his skin burn, sizzle, bubble and leak.

maybe he's hallucinating. he can't remember the last time he fell asleep. he can't remember what sleeping feels like. he's so tired. he says so.

"so, so tired."

" _shhh, we'll make it better. trust us_."

"trust" he scoffs, as fat runs from his skin and is spread on fingers that don't exist, fingers that tease his hole - burning, scorching, carbonizing -, fingers that enter him with precision and ignite him like a flame, like a motor, like- "i don't trust."

a laugh, a scowl, an expression of distaste, a bottom lip making a pout. " _why not?_ "

"everyone leaves" he says, raising his hips for better access as his prostate burns, swells, explodes.

" _we won't. we're here to stay. us. you and us. u-s_."

"why should i believe you?" his eyes are closed and he can see shadows made of flames beyond his lids, through his eyeballs. there's a snort and a hothothot erection enters him, sizzling, fraying, chaffing. something just as hot clamps around his own erection, and he rocks between both sources that are just one, really.

" _because_." one set of flaming lips on his shoulder, melting down to his bone. another on his chin, touching until teeth can scrape the bone of his jaw. " _because we will never leave, yunhyung. never-not even if you wanted us to-never ever ever EVER_ "

"how can you tell?" he asks, hips bucking, erection leaking cum that boils and turns into ashes. "how can you be so sure-"

" _we are. trust us. trust_."

"who a-r-e you?" he asks, sagging, just as a face appears, transforms, materializes, right in front of his, eyes so close- so warm- so dangerous-

" _trust_ " _one_ says,  
lips full, eyes mismatched as a smile forms, fire-

and yunho knows, he knows and feels and realizes and hears as the other voice says it, husky, sultry, breathy; " _trust_ " (lost and found and torn and refused)

\--

there’s a collision. yunho can’t remember what he was doing before (aside from burning and melting, but that had become routine, somehow. lately, he had chosen to foregone clothes, trying only to chase the heat with wet towels and shorts too short to be called clothing) but he remembers what it felt like – the way his body seized and stopped and dismantled.

(he only realizes how afraid he is when) yoochun starts screaming his name and he doesn’t save a breath to hesitate, just screaming back and front and left and right and right back at yoochun, yoochun who was as if electrocuted on the floor, spine arching and feet moving too fast for his eyes to follow, life draining, leaving-

and suddenly it grows, parts of him that were too hot now too cold and he can't breathe can't feel past the scream, and there's blood on his throat there are hands and he's flying, he's fucking flying and his body falls into yoochun's and he barely inhales before hands, too many hands grab him again, hot and cold and hot and hotter and so cold and he's screaming into yoochun's chest as yoochun screams again and again and the voices are screaming at each other and there's another voice that isn't his and each time yoochun screams that other voice screams louder so yunho tries screaming louder himself because somewhere, somehow, he knows that his (h-i-s, his only, hishishis) voices can't back down or else he'd die and he didn't want to die without them and-

\--

"What the fuck is going on?" Yunho asks his reflection, water still dripping down his face from when he had splashed it a few minutes before. There's noise coming from outside of the bathroom, but he ignores it.

Another thing that he tries to become good at - ignoring things, like the thumps and crashes coming from outside, voices (that shouldn't be there) screaming at each other, at the cold softness of Yoochun's body spread all over the couch.

"What?" He asks again, blinking, feeling the taste of flesh and cum and blood and pest and death on the back of this throat. "This isn't real" (this can't be real). "I'm hallucinating." (when had i last slept? so tired. oh, so tired.)

and

a n d

he opens the door and it's just Yoochun, there, body limp and stretched all over the table, chest rising and falling slowly  
\--

"i need to sleep" he says to yoochun, mouth dry, tears and burns collecting at the corners of his eyes. they're cramped on yoochun's bed, windows open to let the sun in. lights turned on to keep... something... out.

"what do you mean?" yoochun furrows his eyebrows, turns his body so that he's facing yunho.

"that i need to sleep."

"you were just sleeping."

"no i was not"

"yes you were"

"yoochun." yunho says, and watches as his breath fogs right above his face. the room looks darker.

"you were asleep for three whole days." yoochun's mouth twists. behind, around them, the room spins. "i've been waiting for you to wake for two." yunho tries to remember how he got on the bed but can't. he remembers staring at the ceiling as voices grew louder. he remembers opening his eyes to see yoochun's profile against the sun.

"wh-" the tip of yoochun's nose is pink, red, blue, purple. yoochun's lips are trembling, blue, purple, black. teeth chattering so loud, yunho can't even hear his own heartbeat.

"you didn't even move."

"how could you even know that?" yoochun looks cold, so cold. yunho feels so hot. yunho could melt, he feels so hot. where is the cold that envelops yoochun even coming from, the sun- weren't the windows just open? yunho frowns, trying to remember. he remembers the feeling of hands around his throat. boiling-hot hands pulling him up and close and apart. he can't remember closing the windows. had the light just turned itself off?

it's dark but he can see everything. it's dark, as dark as night, as dark as nightmare.

"because i haven't slept. at all."

"oh." what? yoochun looks so pale, so weak, so thin. "i thought- i. but i'm so tired. i feel like i haven't slept in weeks. months. years." yoochun looks so cold.

they stare at each other, shivering and sweating.

"we need help" yoochun says at last, voice barely above a whisper, barely above a scratch. he doesn't sound too enthusiastic, or firm, or strong, or convinced. yunho doesn't think he's able to do anything but sound weak, not with the black _something_ (some _one_ ) enveloping his pale throat. there's some of that ( _them_ ) around his own wrists, completely covering his fingers and feelings and fears.

we might die, he thinks, absently, as something impossibly hot and somewhat liquid starts sliding up his jaw. we will, he realizes, just as whatever it is reaches his eyes, burning, filling, blinding, completing, conquering.  



End file.
